


"Can Love be a Crime?"

by asagarasu_yui



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Confessions, Death, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, Father-Son Relationship, Feelings, Incest, Kissing, LGBTQ, Loss, Love, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, One Shot, POV First Person, Pain, Posted Elsewhere, Relationship(s), Romance, Sad, Secrets, Short, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teenagers, Tragedy, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 17:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20261962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asagarasu_yui/pseuds/asagarasu_yui
Summary: "Can Love be a crime? Sensei."I turned to look at him. His eyes closed instantly as if fingers that touched the tip of a flame.





	"Can Love be a Crime?"

**Author's Note:**

> I have posted this work elsewhere in Chinese. Please bear with the syntax, as English is my second language.  
[ Link to Chinese version(other site) ](http://barley-water.lofter.com/post/1f0198a7_1c600443b)

Achilles had always been a different student. It was not because of his extraordinary speed and strength. Nor because of the invulnerability of his vessel. Just because he started to be Achilles but not someone else from a very young age. He was so passionate about being alive, as if he was a dew that could grow with merely the Sun and some drips of water. As a child, his favorite activity was to run wildly without a reason on the grassland. "Sensei-!!" He would run to the other side of the landscape turning into a little silhouette of a person, then shouted repetitively at me laughing.

He had been too blatant ever since he was a child. No matter how I guided him, he failed to learn how to polish his preference. The same nature seemed to be uncivilizedly rude in the centaurs, but turned out to be true and faithful in him. When he was only ten years old, he never paused a single revenge kindled on other pupils(regardless of age), creating chaos under bare daylight. However, as soon as the reconciliation was completed, he would immediately share his hard-earned snacks with anyone without hesitation. He was so blatant that he would climbed onto my shoulder just to announced his favourite person was me, his "one and only Sensei". He hated, and loved too much. Now that I knew his appalling bloodthirsty in the Trojan War. Those fascinating ominousness were revealed so early in his life.

Even with such a straightforward personality, surprisingly, he later developed a skeleton in his cupboard. I didn't know when it started, but I found it out in his 12th birthday. The flesh had decomposed to the bone already. The river was warm enough that day, and I let them stand there to resist the flow of water to enhance their endurance. Older boys were eager to win the competition so there was no need to push them. But the younger ones need some motivation to stand longer. So I told them that who lasted for the longest time could sit on my back. The final winner was Achilles, who was neither junior nor senior. He still had a spirit to jump in joy when he found out that he was the last winner. He came up happily as usual, dripping river water as he left the current. In that year, he grew tall enough to learn how to ride. I just taught him that a few days ago, so I challenged if he could resist from being bucked by me.

He was confident.

I ran. Had not realized the improper. He was no longer a child. Adolescence was glimmering on him.

He bowed down behind me as if he took a heavy punch on the belly: "Stop! Please, Sensei!" He never waited for me to react, jumped down and rolled out onto the grass. I went back and worried if he had hurt himself. He stood up and ran away at his full speed.

"Achilles is a coward!" The pupils laughed.

From that day on and until quite a few years later, he leaned on me no more, as if a simple touch of skin would be a curse of life and death. For sure I no longer invited him. But it was still a subtle issue since he used to fight over others for a chance to do so. For a while, he was so reluctant to ride horses that he was more willing to run along with them, bearing the sneer from. I know that he was not afraid of being beaten down by a spur horse or was showing off his speed even though he pretending to be so.

***

"What is the feeling of love?" All of a sudden he asked.

He started to grow a beard. And like any other young boy, he started to grow an interest on the outside world, burying himself in the legends of the gods, heroes and unmanned places. He especially loved the recent new adventures of Hercules. So the question seemed to be coming out of nowhere.

"You rave when she raves. You are sober when she is sober. If you are close to her, then she is away. If you are far from her, then she is near. "

"Can Love be a crime? Sensei."

I turned to look at him. His eyes closed instantly as if fingers that touched the tip of a flame.

"Love is not sensible. Athena does not love."

He bowed his head to the closed book and whispered, "What a feel I feel."

I was silent to answer. I myself said that love was irrational. Asclepius would consider whether love was a mental illness. Hercules did not care for such affairs at all... And Achilles, who would stand on the hillside to shout only because he were happy, sat at that table, closing his eyes and saying Love felt hard.

That weekend we went to the nearby town for the fair as usual. I turned myself into a human figure, holding the pupils by hands so no one would be lost in the crowd. Achilles was at my left hand. He had not had much interest in the fair, but this time he was full of delight. His slightly sweaty hand held me in earnest. When he looked up and took a peek at me quietly, it seemed like there was a spark shining, as if didn't let go of my hand was the task of learning on Sunday, and it was a rare blessed thing to do. As soon as I looked at him, he turned to avoid. I told myself that this was a very usual thing, especially among Greek teenagers. Achilles was at his time: adolescence. Moreover, he was a person of such passion. In addition, he was not acting strange besides that. So I had nothing to do with it.

He grew up, from my waist to the chest, to the ear. And then he grew taller than me. Every day he was getting faster, stronger, and braver. At some point in time, he no longer needed to hold my hands to prevent go missing. So he let go of my hand and walked with me. Later, he grew to the time of his Departure. I mourned. So much I gifted him a lance I crafted as the farewell. Secretly, I spent quite some days to digest the facts: he was going to be away like any graduated. Maybe a few letters would be sent back. More likely, never heard of again unless in a tale. Apart from the melancholy, I came to my senses, that some alienation would definitely end some affair that had never begun in the first place. I didn't know that if I was relieved, or sombred.

Surprisingly he occasionally came back, appearing at the doorstep as if he should go home in the evening for sure. Then he would naturally go to sit with the youth, sharing pickled olives and exaggerated adventure stories. The young children started to ask questions such as "When will brother Achilles come back?" How did I know? He was a graduate. What he did reached the ears of others. Then from time to time, they came back to visit, too. However, Hercules was too rough, Jason was too self-proclaimed, and Asclepius got turned into a horror figure by rumors because he would having the children's bad tooth pulled. No one's popularity among the children were as good as Achilles' (maybe they were just bribed by the story and olives.) 

Why did he do it? I was aware of what he was doing outside: How "the Invincible Achilles" had led his men conquered cities after cites. And how fearful his name had become for both his enemies and allies. "The Greatest of All the Greek Warriors" was not an amiable honor. But when he returned, he would still naturally stay among the children. He would still try all the ways to avoid extra assignments like the old times, so he couldn’t even be a role-model for the rest.

I saw the light of the reflection of the bonfire in his eyes, reckoned that his actions might be the result of missing the past.

Maybe it was in fact a hope that I could never voice.

One time he came back with some light scratches on his face, leading a young maid who was covered in his coat. I viewed a sense of grace on her even though she had fallen into troubles, thinking that she must be a noble. And she indeed turned out to be a princess in a nearby city-state with some Olympic blood flowing in her body. She somehow got into a new round of conflicts between those gods. In the chaos, she was kidnapped and captured by the centaurs. Fortunately, Achilles encountered them when he was on his way to me. Two pupils heard about the story and began to cheer and clap for their brother's latest heroic deeds. That girl lowered her head. Her face was blushed like a rising sun.

"It has been a tough day for you." I said to her apologetically, "Please bear with us; there are only men's shirt here." Then I sent Achilles to take her back before dark. So they rode away on horses. Achilles was also at the age of marriage. However, when the day was completely dime, he came back. Not only did he not stay there, but he did not even stay for a dinner. He only let them gift him a new saddle and the garland on his head. "Those are... they are not refusable."He claimed. I finally knew where his tough reputation came from.

I asked him why he came back. "I thought you liked her. Otherwise why praise her beauty?"

"Isn't she not beautiful?" He seemed to think that I was being inexplicable and replied without thinking. "I have no interest in men or women. And I don't need any other family. I like it this..." Though he thought slow, he eventually realized what he was talking about and seized talking immediately, gradually blushing. I hadn't seen him like that for a long time, musing it as entertaining. But he was no longer the age suitable for paederasty. But he continued to be like that. It had become a problem.

In silent, Xanthus walked in. The horse said: "Son of the goddess Thetis, the undead Achilles, You will die in Troy for Glory."

"Don't I know it!" he replied immediately, without any fear, "For Glory!"

They were all wrong. His weakness was not in the pursuit of glory, nor in the heel that were not immersed in the river; I believed that this child will only die from his passion. That storm of Love and Hate was too strong for him to survive this ever-storming Mortal World. He would chase after his passion and jumped off the most obvious cliff. I was fascinated by his passion but struck with sadness at the same moment: That day and time, it was me who had been hurting him. 

He took his garland of flowers off and gave it to me. "I am going to chill by the river." Then he ran.

Even though the gods granted me wisdom, I did not know if Aphrodite and Cupid were scattering blessing, or fatal curses. However, the gods themselves should not had known the answer either. They themselves were tangled in such endless struggles, too.

***

The arrow of Hercules dropped on my knees at noon time. At first the pain was so overwhelming that I almost passed out. When I calmed down, the toxins had spread to the entire leg. The venom of Hydra was an ill-treated poison, so I asked Hercules to immediately cut off my leg. But I was so painful that I lost my judgement: How could he ever be able to do it? Heroes were always on the way to winning. I had never taught them how to face a pre-determined loss. In retrospect, it was, ironically, a suitable last lesson by chance.

When Asclepius rushed in, I had tried several ways of faint hope. And it was truly the right time to give up eternal life. I told him that if Prometheus could be saved, it would not be a bad ending for me. He blamed me for being ridiculously quick to judge(as he always would say to any other patients; reassuring in some way), but soon he subtly became to be soft and grave, because he found that my conclusions were not unreasonable after all. However, he was still firmly opposing to the matter of contacting Zeus. Then no one was willing to send the Olympics a message.

When the sun was about to fall, he came. I heard his footsteps, felling on the grassland like a thunderstorm. It sounded urgent, and chaotic. Then the hoof noise of the horse followed. He shouldn’t run like that. The tension on his tendon was too great. And there was nothing to be hurry for. I had no cure.

The pupils, senior and junior, shouted his name. However, he did not stop, straight into the door. The gray dust and the heated vapor transpired. The wind he brought disturbed my wounds and I twitched uncontrollably.

His heavy breathing was killed abruptly, and the hot red face instantly cooled to the whiteness of the dead water in the Hades. Obviously, no matter who told him the news, he did not believe it at that time; but now he was desperate.

"No need to..." I tried to calmly say in pain, figuring out words to appease him. But he couldn't stand anymore. After only a few seconds, he fell down, as a mountain in earthquake. He had grown so much in these years. Cold sweat and warm skin dissolve together. His face was against my face. I heard his throat cracked.

"Live, beg you. Don't leave me..." He groaned, as a child who just learned to talk, "Sensei!... Pater! Pater!" I could not see his lips, but I could imagine how they were trembling. He was no longer a child, or a teen; so he could not find the correct word. Not anymore.

Asclepius hurriedly in with another pile of herbs, and Hercules followed him carrying boiling water. They believed that they had not exhausted possible options so they refused to talk to Zeus about the exchange. Hercules still didn't dare to look at me; Asclepius couldn't bear it either. He stared at somewhere else and asked Achilles stiffly to get out of the way, sighing silently.

They thought that their hard-hearted fellow were crying.

But Achilles, in tears, was kissing me.

We had nothing to say except to kiss. 

Language and thought collapsed into void at the face of the Eternal End. Only the silence of crime smashed between us, one person and another, at its full strength and speed. He closed his eyes at first but soon opened: I saw the passion shone as a meteor in his eyes. Again. Yet, for the last time.

In that very short moment, I was not willing to die.


End file.
